John Galsworthy

(1867-1933 / England)

John Galsworthy
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John Galsworthy OM ( 14 August 1867 – 31 January 1933) was an English novelist and playwright. Notable works include The Forsyte Saga (1906—1921) and its sequels, A Modern Comedy and End of the Chapter. He won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1932.

John Galsworthy was born at Kingston Hill in Surrey, England into an established wealthy family, the son of John and Blanche Bailey (née Bartleet) Galsworthy. His large Kingston upon Thames estate is now the site of three schools: Marymount International, Rokeby Preparatory School and Holy Cross. He attended Harrow and New College, Oxford, training as a barrister and was called to the bar in 1890. However, he was not keen to begin ... more »

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  • ''When Man evolved Pity, he did a queer thing—deprived himself of the power of living life as it is without wishing it to become something different.''
    John Galsworthy (1867-1933), British novelist, playwright. Letter, March 27, 1910, to Thomas Hardy.
  • ''Everything known before it happens; and headlines twice the size of the events.''
    John Galsworthy (1867-1933), British novelist, playwright. General Cherrell, in Over the River, ch. 27 (1933). The last of The Forsyth Chronicles....
  • ''Religion was nearly dead because there was no longer real belief in future life; but something was struggling to take its place—service—social service—the ants' creed, the bees' creed.''
    John Galsworthy (1867-1933), British novelist, playwright. Sir Lawrence Mont, in Over the River, ch. 11, End of the Chapter, bk. 3 (1933). The las...
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Comments about John Galsworthy

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  • Norman (1/1/2018 2:49:00 PM)

    Whilst powers debate the children die.........Does anyone recognise these opening lines in a Galsworthy poem, written for Children in need?

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Best Poem of John Galsworthy

Devon To Me

Where my fathers stood
Watching the sea,
Gale-spent herring boats
Hugging the lea;
There my Mother lives,
Moorland and tree.
Sight o' the blossom!
Devon to me!

Where my fathers walked,
Driving the plough;
Whistled their hearts out -
Who whistles now?
There my Mother burns
Fire faggots free.
Scent o' the wood-smoke!
Devon to me!

Where my fathers sat,
Passing their bowls;
- They've no cider now,
God rest their souls!
There my Mother feeds
Red cattle three.
Taste o' the cream-pan!
Devon to me!

Where my fathers ...

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